Locks and Socks
by Caliga
Summary: Gibbs begins to wonder if he’s sucking the fun out of his team’s jobs. Then he realizes that he doesn’t care.


**Locks and Socks**

Disclaimer: Umm. Yes. I own them all. They stole the idea from me! I swear. But for legal reasons, I probably need to say that 'I'm kidding.'

A/N: This is purely for Thought's post-test amusement. Because even though I've voiced way to many times to remember, that I can't write NCIS, she still wants me to write it. mutters

Continuity: Post Kate.

Summary: Gibbs begins to wonder if he's sucking the fun out of his team's jobs. Then he realizes that he doesn't care.

**XXX**

It was 8:00 AM on Monday morning. Special Agent Gibbs stood on the second floor landing; sipping on his extra large black coffee and looking down at his team do what they do when they don't think he's looking.

Tony violently whacked at his keyboard and held his face inches away from the monitor as digital space ships exploded and shot little bolts of light. Ziva was building a miniature Tommy gun out of paper documents, pens, and paper clips.

Tony randomly yelled something at the screen. Startled, Ziva accidentally brought her fist down on the replica, launching pens in every direction.

"Ow!" There was a large explosion on the screen, and big red letters flashed in front of Tony. 'Game Over.' He slowly turned from his monitor to glare at Ziva.

"I'm sorry, Tony. Did I ruin your juvenile fun?"

Tony blinked hard to get the darks spots in front of him to go away. He searched for the pen on the floor. When he found it and retrieved it, he flung in Ziva's general direction, but instead knocked McGee's lamp off of his desk. The bulb shattered when it hit the floor.

"Nice shot." Ziva smirked.

"Shut up," he rolled his eyes, "He's late anyway. He deserves it." He noticed the pile of crumpled paper and paper clips on her desk, and the scattered pens on the floor. "I'll never understand you," he stated blandly and turned back to his computer. Ziva glared daggers at the side of his head.

Abby came bounding out of the elevator, laughing hysterically, and came to a halt in front of Tony. She tried quite unsuccessfully to keep a straight face.

"Can I help you, Abby?" he asked cautiously.

"Um, okay. Where to start?" her whole body shook with giggles. "Uh, okay. Last night, Ducky was doing some sort of soothing autopsy on that Haunan guy that was found in that Infiniti—"

"Soothing autopsy?" Ziva wrinkled her nose.

Abby craned her neck to look at Ziva, "I'm talking about Ducky, remember?"

Ziva realized her point and leant back in her chair.

"Anyway," she turned back to Tony, "He found Jimmy's wallet on one of the tables, and called him to tell him that he had it. But he wasn't home."

"The point?" Tony yawned.

"So after Ducky called him a bajillion times on his pager and cell phone, he gave up and took it home with him last night. He came in early this morning to see if he'd come in. Still, no Jimmy. But about ten minutes ago, he walked through the lab doors."

"And the funny part about all that is…?" Tony inquired.

"You kind of have to see for yourself." She grinned widely and glanced from Tony to Ziva, and back to Tony. "Unless you're busy."

Ziva and Tony casually looked at each other. "I guess we can spare some time," he said standing and stretching his arms.

"Great!" Abby bounced in place and then excitedly led the way to the elevator.

When the doors closed, Gibbs tossed his large, white Styrofoam in the nearest garbage can and slowly descended the stairs to where the younger agents had previously been. He sighed as he stepped over the mass of blue and black pens and strode over to the elevator and pressed the down button. He patiently waited for the large metal doors to open for him. When they finally squeaked open, he stepped in and pressed the button for Ducky's lab. His team was about to get a few smacks on the back of the head. Maybe an extra one or two for Tony. He held his hands at his sides and felt a very strong migraine coming on. The doors opened again. He stepped out, walked a few feet to the left and then turned to the door with uncontrollable laughter coming from the other side.

"Let me get my camera!" he heard Tony yell. He swung the door open and shrieked and fell backwards at the sight of Gibbs. "Hi, Boss." He said from the floor, trying to make himself smaller by any means necessary.

"DiNozzo." He reached down and grabbed Tony's leather jacket collar and pulled him up.

"Thanks," he spluttered sarcastically.

Gibbs kicked the door open and, still holding Tony's collar, walked in.

The laughter stopped immediately, and everyone stared at Gibbs.

"What the hell is going on in here!" he shoved Tony at Ziva, who dodged him.

There was a weak mumble from behind Abby and Ducky. Gibbs eyed the two of them suspiciously and motioned for them to move from each other's side. He looked down on the floor.

"Jimmy came in a little hung over." Tony chuckled from behind him.

Jimmy Palmer lay on the floor, unconscious, with a pink and brown skirt, a blond wig, one stiletto heel, and bright red lipstick smeared unevenly on his lips.

Gibbs frowned and for once in his life, was left rather speechless.

"Security let him in like this?" Gibbs asked no one in particular.

"I think Jackson has a sense of humour…perhaps he wanted to exploit him," Ziva suggested.

"Okay, well…" Gibbs scowled at the cataleptic morgue assistant, "Ducky…clean him up and…get him some…not so female clothing…the rest of you, get the hell up stairs."

"Me too?" Abby whined, as Tony and Ziva tried to race out of there to escape Gibbs' wrath.

Gibbs basically growled at her, so she hurriedly rushed after the other two. "I'll talk to you…and him…later." He groaned to Ducky, who decided it would be safest to just nod.

When Gibbs got back upstairs, he found Ziva, Abby, and Tony standing quiet and still, waiting for some sort of punishment. McGee, who just stumbled out of the elevator car, saved them.

"McGee! You're late!"

"Sorry, Boss. I—" he panted.

"I don't really care why you're late, McGee…" he gave him a look that sent a shiver racing up and down his spine.

"How many times a day do you say 'sorry' to Gibbs, Probie?" Tony inquired mockingly.

McGee muttered, "Too many," at the same time Gibbs said, "Not enough."

"Interesting." He nodded, grinning extensively. McGee didn't look impressed.

"Now get to _work_!" Gibbs bellowed, while garishly looking at Tony.

"Okay, okay!" he went to his chair and sat down.

"McGee's wearing two differently coloured socks," Ziva said randomly.

"Why were you looking at my _feet_?"

"NOW!"

Ziva and McGee leaped to their desks to try and hide. McGeetripped overhis broken lamp in the process. Gibbs began walking away as Tony happily moved his cursor to 'Doom.'

"Game over, Tony!" Gibbs yelled over his shoulder and turned the corner.

Ziva chuckled to herself and flipped through her papers.

Tony frowned, "How the heck does he do that?"

McGee rummaged through his drawers and the containers on his desk. He leaned forward and looked to the deep blue carpet and sighed, "Why are my pens all over the floor?"


End file.
